


Dog Days

by Westwardflight



Category: Horrible Histories
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westwardflight/pseuds/Westwardflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He made a noise that spoke of the mildest inconvenience and immediate forgiveness at the disturbance. It was hard to muster anything resembling irritation on a day so perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [two](hhanon.livejournal.com/2037.html?thread=1030645#t1030645) [prompts](http://hhanon.livejournal.com/2037.html?thread=1174005#t1174005) on the HH Anonmeme. Un-betaed.

The sunlight painted strange patterns on their skin as it darted between the branches overhead. Jackets, waistcoats, and shirts had long since been abandoned in the face of its wrath, left to fend for themselves in the grass beside the picnic blanket.

The picnic basket was haphazardly pushed aside, so the two boys could sprawl and tangle across the blanket, clad only in their undershirts and trousers.  
“I will never eat apple pie again, so long as I live,” Blenkinsop mumbled against Maltravers’ shoulder.

“Liar.”

Blenkinsop could hear the smile in voice. “Yes, well, it is awfully delicious. One mustn’t be too hasty about these things.”

“Quite right, dear boy,” Maltravers said. He stretched, arching his back and rolling his shoulders, dislodging Blenkinsop from his resting place. “Sorry,” he murmured, shifting to bring them back together in spite of the heat.

He made a noise that spoke of the mildest inconvenience and immediate forgiveness at the disturbance. It was hard to muster anything resembling irritation on a day so perfect.

Stomach full and unspeakably comfortable, he found himself starting to doze. He fought it at first, wanting to enjoy everything today had to offer, but then Maltravers started stroking his hair. Blenkinsop might not be the brightest chap, but he recognised a losing battle when he saw one.

Maltravers’ clever fingers were dancing up and down his spine when he woke. Blenkinsop looked up at him, smiling, and asked, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Long enough for your snoring to startle the birds,” he replied, cheekily.

What else could he do? He nipped gently at Maltravers’ chest through the light cotton of his shirt, then rolled so he was straddling Maltravers waist. “Take that back,” he said, laughing and trying to gather Maltravers’ hands so he could pin them.

“Never!” He bucked, trying to dislodge Blenkinsop and tried to roll them back over.

They tussled briefly, but Maltravers cheated and used his secret weapon: tickling.

Blenkinsop forced out an ‘I surrender’ between peals of laughter and let Maltravers pin him.

“Say your snoring startled the birds,” Maltravers said, grinning at him.

“My snoring startled the birds,” he parroted back.

“Now say ‘Maltravers is the smartest, most handsome boy in our form’.”

He gave a put upon sigh, and poked his tongue out at Maltravers. “Maltravers is the smartest, most handsome boy in our form,” he said.

“‘And he’s the best at cricket’.”

“Fine. And he’s the best at cricket.” Maltravers let himself go limp, collapsing on top of Blenkinsop. “Get off, you lump,” Blenkinsop said, half-heartedly pushing at him.

“Don’t want to. I’m comfortable here,” he said, shifting so his breath skittered hot and damp across Blenkinsop’s throat, sending a curl of heat down to his belly.

Maltravers took advantage of his temporary distraction to work Blenkinsop’s vest from his trousers, and find his way to the soft skin underneath.

He gave a small cry as Maltravers' finger tips settled along his ribs. 

Maltravers propped himself back up, so he was looking down at Blenkinsop. His hair was mussed, though Blenkinsop knew his own couldn’t be any better, and there was a flush sitting high on his cheeks.

He leant down and kissed Blenkinsop. It was soft and chaste, and Blenkinsop’s eyes flickered shut. Usually these moments were furtive, stolen between classes, cricket, and pranks. Today was different, a whole afternoon in the sun stretching before them glorious and free. Maltravers brought a hand up to cup Blenkinsop’s jaw, caressing him impossibly softly.

Meanwhile, Blenkinsop was putting his own hands to good use. He pushed Maltravers’ braces off his shoulders, and rucked up his shirt. “Off,” he muttered against Maltravers’ mouth. He felt Maltravers smile against his lips before he straightened up and pulled his shirt over his head.

Blenkinsop stared at his mouth, eyes following Maltravers’ agile pink tongue as it darted across his lower lip. As soon as the offending item of clothing was thrown aside, Blenkinsop dragged him back down. There was nothing chaste about this kiss. It was wet and deep, sending heavy tendrils of want through his limbs that tingled in his fingers and toes.

He dug his fingers into Maltravers’ back, and worried gently at his lower lip before sucking at it soothingly.

Maltravers rumbled in the back of his throat, and Blenkinsop felt a wonderful warmth wash over him. He forced himself to pull away. “Trousers,” he said, because they had quite a walk back home when they finished here and doing it in soiled trousers was best avoided. 

Maltravers made a small frustrated noise, but stood up, dragging Blenkinsop up with him. “Hurry up,” he urged even as he kept touching Blenkinsop rather than seeing to his own clothes. 

Blenkinsop quickly removed his own clothes so he could pull Maltravers close again. He made short work of Maltravers’ trousers, and backed him into the tree. The kiss was soft and exploratory, turning hot only when Blenkinsop wedged his leg between Maltravers’ thighs.

“Bark is itchy,” Maltravers gasped, grinding against Blenkinsop.

Blenkinsop dragged him back over to the blanket, and dropped to his knees. He licked his lips, then wrapped them around the head of Maltravers’ cock. 

Maltravers keened, hands twisting in Blenkinsop’s hair. It took only minutes before Maltravers orgasmed, fingers tightening then releasing in Blenkinsop’s hair. 

He dropped to the ground, clumsy and slow, and pulled Blenkinsop into a messy kiss. He wrapped his hand around Blenkinsop and stroked roughly, unevenly until Blenkinsop cried out and came all over both of them. 

Maltravers grabbed his undershirt to wipe them down, then lay down on the blanket, beckoning for Blenkinsop to join him. He followed eagerly, pressing against Maltravers, entwining their legs and wrapping his arms him tightly.

He was boneless and warm, basking in the afterglow, when Maltravers began to kiss him gently again. He explored Blenkinsop’s jaw and neck with open mouthed kisses, hands mapping his body. Blenkinsop could feel his cock stirring again, and he bared his throat with a whimper.

The rush of lust from earlier had burnt out, replaced with something gentler. They were able to lie there exchange soft kisses and touches, letting desire build slowly, achingly.

Opportunities like this were precious, something to be savoured. Maltravers’ body contained uncountable hidden treasures – a sensitive spot low on his ribs, an obscene reflexive hiccup when bitten, a fantastically beautiful sheen of sweat brushed across his skin – that would never have been found through surreptitious touches in the dark. 

Want twist-turned in his belly, warping and changing into its darker cousin, Need. He straddled Maltravers, taking a moment to bask in his kiss swollen lips and arched neck. He was stunning like this, Blenkinsop wanted to capture this moment and carry it with him forever. Instead, he licked at Maltravers’ mouth, messy and wet.

Maltravers flexed his hips, and Blenkinsop swore and lost all coordination. He panted against Maltravers’ mouth, craving more contact.

He shifted back, so that their erections were aligned. A cry was torn from his throat, and Maltravers’ hands were instantly at Blenkinsop’s buttocks, cradling him and pulling him closer.

Blenkinsop ground down against him, groaning when those clever fingers clenched tight and dug into his flesh. In response, he wrapped his hands around them, stroking them with a slow rhythm.

Maltravers rocked up against him, keeping time with those long, unhurried strokes. Rumbling groans echoed from deep in his chest.

Blenkinsop was keening, feeling his hips pick up speed despite his wishes to draw this out. He felt his orgasm building inside him, drawing his muscles tight and settling in his groin. 

He gave a breathy moan as he came, going limp against Maltravers. 

Maltravers hands wandered across his body, hips still shifting trying desperately to find friction against Blenkinsop’s slick skin.

He roused himself from his post-orgasmic languor to stroke Maltravers' erection with an unsteady hand. He couldn’t find any kind of rhythm, but that didn’t seem to matter. He kissed Maltravers, lips sliding gently against his. 

He pulled back when he felt Maltravers tense, wanting to see his face when he lost himself to the pleasure. 

He was not disappointed. Maltravers was gorgeous like this. His head was thrown back and his back arched as his body strained towards orgasm. Blenkinsop was enthralled as Maltravers' pleasure crested and broke, writ clear across his body.

Maltravers lay panting beneath him, burnished bronze as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Blenkinsop grabbed the already soiled undershirt to haphazardly clean them up, then contented himself exchanging soft kisses with Maltravers until it was time to head back to the village.


End file.
